


Don't Worry

by Salicina



Category: Persona 5, Persona 5 Royal
Genre: Brainwashing, Dubious Consent, Mild Sexual Content, Other, gender neutral reader
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-29
Updated: 2020-05-29
Packaged: 2021-03-03 02:49:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,318
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24437713
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Salicina/pseuds/Salicina
Summary: There are discrepancies in your memory. Azathoth springs to action, and the benevolent Maruki takes care of the aftermath.
Relationships: Maruki Takuto/Reader
Comments: 6
Kudos: 51





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by the awesome authors miscrece (Redamantia) and wastelanderness (welcome to the panic room). This is a bit of a darker Maruki/Reader fic, but I hope you all enjoy it nonetheless.
> 
> Think of this as a follow-up to "No more tears shall drop from your cheeks anymore."
> 
> You don't necessarily need to though.

You wake up to the soft sunlight of a cloudy day, the perfect weather for a day off. With a yawn, stretch, and a hop out of bed, you groggily make your way to the kitchen. The coffee grinder on the counter beckons, its handle nestled against a canister of coffee beans. If you remember correctly, they’re Guatemalan SHB beans, a parting gift from Sojiro. The canister opens with a ‘pop,’ spicing up the room with its notes of fruit and chocolate. Disappointingly, there is only enough left for one cup of coffee. You don’t even have any curry to go with it. Sometimes you wished you still lived in Cafe LeBlanc’s attic. Your stomach growls, and you eye the last of your coffee beans. 

Alright. That’s it. 

A trip to LeBlanc is a must! One light jacket and a small rucksack for your coffee canister later, and you stumble out the door. Thankfully, it isn’t too far away. The walk there should help you perk up a bit so that you can at least mumble a coherent order. 

It doesn’t take long for your thoughts to start drifting, something that’s been happening more and more lately. And it isn’t the normal sort of drifting either. Sure it starts off innocuous enough like thinking about dinner or gift shopping, but then you’ll remember things that are completely untrue.

A week ago you went overboard making gyudon, stretching the limits of your leftover containers. Enough to feed you for a good two to three days at the very least. 

_I should give some to Yusuke. I don’t want him to suffer another meal of just bean sprouts._

Wait, what? Yusuke may be an artist, but under the guardianship of Madarame, he certainly wasn’t starving. Oftentimes, he would come over to LeBlanc just to regale you with tales of the latest avant-garde cuisine they shared. You’re pretty sure that plain bean sprouts are not considered ‘avant-garde.’ So where did that thought come from? It felt familiar as if it were something you worried about often, rather than a random, intrusive one. You shook it off as some weird deja vu.

Then another day, at the Shibuya bookstore, you saw a book about coping with chronic pain. For some reason, you bought it, thinking that Ryuji might appreciate it. Holding the bagged book in hand, you gawked at it for several seconds, brow furrowing. As far as you knew, Ryuji didn’t have any chronic health issues. Heck, despite being an athlete, he hasn’t even broken a bone. You returned the book sheepishly.

But those paled in comparison to whenever you passed by the flower shop. Carnations made you think about Futaba and how sad Mother’s Day must be for her. When gladiolas were on sale, you’d wonder if Makoto would buy any for her father’s grave. Worst was seeing the higanbanas, their deep scarlet red reminding you of Kunikazu Okumura’s ascot and remembering how it was stained by the viscous bile that leaked from every orifice as he—

Pain bursts from behind your eyes, nausea propelling you to the nearest trash can. Pale and hunched over, you retch, coming up with nothing but saliva. Perhaps it’s a good thing that you haven’t eaten yet. 

“Are you alright?”

For a question meant to denote concern, it had the flattest tone you’ve ever heard. Standing shakily, you find yourself face to face with a man in a white suit. He looks fairly nondescript, but only because you can’t seem to focus on his face. 

“I-I’m fine, just a little dizzy spell. Once I have some breakfast, I think I’ll be good. Heh, heh.”

You try and laugh it off, not wanting to concern a stranger with a problem that you don’t even understand. Summoning thoughts of curry and coffee to the front of your mind, you push the bizarre memories elsewhere. The man just stares, unblinking with his (brown, gray, hazel?) eyes. He’s searching for something, and he seems troubled. 

But you get the feeling that it’s not for your sake. Goosebumps prickle down your neck and the warning rush of adrenaline fills your veins. Maybe you should leave.

You begin shuffling away awkwardly, rudeness be damned, when the pain returns as if someone cast a hook into your mind and yanked it back. The unrelenting pressure makes your ears pop. 

_Everyone’s so happy here...Is it truly right to take that all away? Are Maruki’s actions really any different from ours?_

_Clutching your dagger, you approach the palace that you wished you had paid more attention to back in October._

_Doubts whisper at the back of your mind. Biting your lip, you attempt to smother them, picking up the pace. You need to save everyone! There’s no room for wavering!_

It’s more than just thoughts this time. A vivid memory greets you, the emotions flooding your brain, impossible to process all at once. Why were you dressed like that? Who is Maruki? What were you trying to do? 

The stranger’s arms twitch as his neck cranes downward, rounding his back to get closer. A gurgle squelches, reminding you of bubbling hot tar. 

“Are yOu RejECtinG hiS giFT?”

Stretched like taffy, the man’s voice warbles. His eyes cease to exist as his face melts, offsetting, then receding into the distorted darkness swimming beneath. There’s no bone under the liquified skin, only a porcelain mask. Three eccentric circles decorate the expanse of white, bleeding into the holes that have taken the place of his eyes, creating the illusion of a warped smile.

_Shadow._

The word rings in your mind. It feels right for this creature. A small part of you itches to fight, but it’s drowned out by the sheer terror of it all.

With a cry, you stagger back, hitting into a wall. Darkness oozes and sputters from the underside of the mask as the shadow limps forward. A businesswoman walks between the two of you, right in front of it, not sparing a single glance as the inky spittle spurts onto her shoulder and heels. She isn’t the only one. Everyone around you carries a similar nonchalance, absorbed in their own world as you scream in terror. Desperate, you shake the person next to you.

His eyes are unfocused, looking straight through you. You yell. He pauses and scrunches his face before shrugging you off and disappearing into the crowd. Is no one else seeing this?! The shadow reaches out, its appendage clamping down on your shoulder. It has you trapped between itself and the wall. Despite the pain, your brain races, searching for an opening. With a bit more room, it might be possible to slip out on the right! Twisting around, you slam into it with your back, letting it engulf your rucksack. In one movement you slide it and your jacket off, pushing away into a sprint.

The shadow howls. In the distance, you hear a series of guttural wails radiating outward. Ahead, more shadows shed their human disguise, black blots against the colorful background of Yongen-Jaya. With surprising dexterity, you weave through the crowds, dancing just outside of the monstrous arms. But it’s not enough as their comrades pour out from the alleyways, splattering noxious slime all over the pavement. The strange substance hisses and bubbles, another danger to avoid. Quickly, you pivot out of the way, but try as you might, it’s one against dozens. It doesn’t take long for them to coordinate and surround you.

By all means, you should be a sobbing, panicking mess curled on the ground by now, but still, you stand, a defiant flare burning in your eyes. 

_Vow to me._

You shift into a fighting stance. A familiar spark rests on the tip of your tongue, awaiting its awakening.

_Call upon my name and release thy rage!_

Rather than a name, crimson droplets spray as you cry out. Vision wavering, you look down at the pulsating hand that just pierced clean through your throat. The color of your blood clashes horribly with its sickly turquoise claws. More hands emerge and writhe into view, one after another. They grab indiscriminately, puncturing your clothes and skin, dragging you down into the abyss. Breathing becomes a chore and the world a blur. You close your eyes.

The world disappears.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The shadows that appear are meant to look like the one from the cutscene in which Sumire is taken by Maruki after the truth of her past is revealed.
> 
> Azathoth isn't mentioned by name specifically (here and in the next chapter), but I tried to make its presence distinct, the bluish claws differentiating it from a generic shadow hand/tentacle.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maruki is here.

You wake up.

This is not your ceiling, which means that this is certainly not your bed. It’s too high for one thing, a grandiose dome. You shift, propping yourself up on your forearms. Where is this? The sheets are luxurious, all silky and soft, caressing your bare skin.

Wait.

Slowly, you lift the thin blanket, face blanching as you confirm your nakedness.

“I see you’re awake.”

Clutching the blanket to your chest, you snap your head towards the warm voice. A man sits at the side of the bed, clad in pristine white, hair professionally slicked back. If not for every other part of this situation, his appearance alone would make you suspect that somehow you’ve woken up in a hospital. Tugging off his gloves, he leans forward.

“What do you remember?”

His eyes flicker to your throat, a pained expression rising to his face. Puzzled, you gingerly bring your fingers to the site. But there’s only skin. No bandages. No scars.

Out of the corner of your eye, turquoise talons slink across the sheets, attached to an impossibly long, pulsating, ebony arm.

_You try to inhale, only to choke on the taste of iron. Shadows shriek as hands grab, grab, and grab. Splitting flesh down to bone. Red rivers stream down, painting the pavement in ugly splotches._

You slam into the headboard, scrambling to get away. Your eyelids squeeze shut as you scream, helpless against the inevitable destruction of your pitiful defense. Amidst the thudding heartbeats in your ear, you can hear the man yell, sharp and scolding.

The mattress dips, and you feel a presence looming over you. You tense and tremble, tears spilling onto your cheeks. Then a pair of hands, human hands, gently curl around your knuckles, lowering them to your sides. 

“It’s okay now. You’re safe.”

Your eyes open, meeting his chocolate brown. There are no claws, no darkness. Noting your tears, he frowns, voice laced in regret.

“I’m sorry. This is my fault. I thought for sure that…”

He trails off, shaking his head.

“I won’t be so hasty this time. You deserve better. Please, once more, let me take away your pain!”

His eyes pin you with a look of utmost sincerity like you’re the most important thing in the world. What are you missing here? What does he mean by ‘this time’? You wrack your brain, coming up frightfully short. Everything is vague, sharp flashes of memory slipping away as you try to catch them. February 3rd is that last solid date you can remember. Before that and beyond that are a blur, an amalgamation of broad emotions and facts that you are certain are true, though you’re not sure why. You’re barely better than a blank slate. 

“Who are you?”

You need something, anything to grasp onto, to feel real. A person’s past shouldn’t be an enigma, especially not to one’s self. This man seems to know about you. Maybe he can help.

The man chuckles, warm and rich. His lips graze your skin, kissing a tear away.

“Takuto.”

He mouths the word, a scant wisp of breath that makes you shiver. Then the remaining teardrop is brushed away as well.

“Maruki.”

Trust. Comfort. Warmth.

The name sparks recognition from somewhere deep inside, a thread slowly being pulled. The emotions flow through you, emanating a lulling heat. They’re progressive, cycling through what must have been your relationship. The way he’s treating you now...Perhaps the two of you are lovers? An undercurrent of doubt begins to creep in. Eh? Why is there—

Soft lips press onto yours, followed by a careful swipe of tongue. His fingers trace your collarbone, raising goosebumps and longing in their wake. You gasp, and he slips in. All negative emotions are banished, leaving a void eager to be filled.

His hands glide under the blanket. One stops at your chest, gently circling and pulling at the sensitive flesh. You moan, arching your back to better meet his fingers. Maruki pulls his mouth away, licking his lips as he fixes you with a half-lidded gaze. His other hand finds its destination, the heat pooling between your legs. 

“This’ll feel good. I promise.”

You’re already wet, making it easy as he begins with light, languid strokes. You shudder, wondering how just fingers can feel so good. His pace quickens as his mouth claims your other nipple, tongue swirling with the barest teasing of teeth. Your lips part, desperate whines and whimpers tumbling down, pushed out by the swelling intensity building within. 

You cry out, sinking into the mattress as Maruki draws out your climax. Bliss washes over you, the remaining impurities trickling out onto the sheets. Tired, cleansed, and wonderfully hollow, you close your eyes. You’re not afraid of what might happen next, and although your time with him is at an end, there are no traces of sadness either.

Even now, as you’re drifting off, the encounter evanescing into the abstract, you can feel the heat of his body. Radiant like the sun, he’ll always be there, filling you with life. No matter what the distance, he’ll watch over you. With his lustrous love, he’ll purify the darkness, turning night into day.

Maruki will take care of everything.

You can sleep, for you will surely wake up tomorrow, just as he knows you should. The weather will be perfect, just as you like it. Your life will be a peaceful rest, a tapestry of dreams woven into reality.

No need to worry. 

No need to strive. 

Your breathing slows, limbs falling limp.

A white light shines, and the world fades away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to challenge myself and write gender-neutral smut. Hopefully, I succeeded?


End file.
